


Mine Own Familiar Friend

by H_Lee_Trinity



Category: Abrahamic Religions, Christian Bible, Original Work
Genre: Alternate Universe - Bikers, Betrayal, Bible, Crucifixion, Guns, M/M, Melodrama, Suicide, light m/m
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-10
Updated: 2020-03-10
Packaged: 2021-03-01 02:16:00
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,615
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23087635
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/H_Lee_Trinity/pseuds/H_Lee_Trinity
Summary: "Now there was leaning on Jesus' bosom one of his disciples, whom Jesus loved." John 13:23Inspired by the Gospel of Judas, except the Apostles are a biker gang and have guns.
Relationships: Jesus Christ/Judas Iscariot
Comments: 1
Kudos: 19





	Mine Own Familiar Friend

The Jerusalem heat was dripping over them - so hot Judas could hold the butt of a cigarette to his arm and feel no difference. Standing atop the Mount of Olives, the city lay rotting beneath them.

“It won’t be long now.” 

Jesus’s cold words sent numbness to Judas’s tongue. He looked to his leader. The Son of Man was squinting towards the sun, his shades lay atop his head, tangled with hair - beautiful - even under desert sweat.

Judas tried a smile for his comrade, “They’ll never catch us, man. We’ll get away like always. Those fucks.”

Jesus looked to Judas.

“The pigs- ” he whispered and gave a hollow grin, “The pigs will never win. But Judas, they’re coming for us tonight.”

Christ turned back to the sun and cleared his throat, “Our time is running out.”

Whipping his pistol from the holster, Judas gritted his teeth. He aimed the gun at the sky and spat, “Jesus, they’ll never get us. I’ll go down in a rain of bullets if I have to, a sea of blood. I’ll  _ die _ for you.”

“I know you would.” Jesus looked at him, with something in his eyes Judas could not recognize. 

“Judas…” Jesus gripped his arm and gave him a saddened smile. “Tonight will be our last supper.”

Judas lowered his gun slowly. He pressed his cracked lips. “I… Jesus, I had a dream last night.”

Christ drew a lung full of smoke and breathed out, saying nothing.

“It was about the other Apostles. They were throwing me down, stoning me. Calling me a traitor but I… I had this horrible pain in my chest, this fucking awful feeling like I deserved it.”

Throwing a leg over his bike, Jesus took the key from his pocket and shoved it into the ignition. Then, in a sudden outburst of fury, he raised a fist and punched his bike. Judas jumped in surprise.

“ _ Fuck _ ,” Jesus spat and threw his head into his hands.

“Jesus, we can beat them.” Judas began but was cut off.

“Judas, you will betray me.”

“No, I fucking  _ won’t _ !” Judas snarled. He threw his cig to the ground and crushed it with a steel toe boot.

Jesus reached out and held his shoulders with both hands. Judas had never seen eyes more desperate.

“You have to. Judas Iscariot, I’m asking you to help me.” He let go and Judas saw his hands shaking. 

“Come on,” Jesus turned away, “We’re wasting gas.”

......

Judas stepped into the temple. The sun had fallen from the sky and left only candles as light. He hesitated before walking towards the group of chief priests. Without a single weapon, not even a blade, Judas felt naked and lonely. Jesus had told him to go without guns. The memory of this request sat queasily in his stomach.

As soon as the priests realized who was among them, they groped for their holsters.

“Judas Iscariot,” one said in a hushed voice. He lifted a pistol, “One of the Twelve Apostles of Jesus of Nazareth.”

Judas felt a familiar rush of hatred, his fingers urged to pull a trigger. But instead, Judas lifted his arms.

“Shoot if you want. But I’ve got a deal to make.”

After the trade, Judas left - his hands oily with the feel of the priest’s money. But Christ had told him to ask.  _ “They’ll think something’s up if you don’t ask.” _

Thirty pieces of silver. 

Judas pulled his teeth back in a bitter grin and shook his head, Jesus would find it funny how little the men had given him. Maybe he’d have time to tell him.

Judas got on his bike and the engine roared. He leaned down, stuffing the satchel full of silver into his bag. Taking in once last eyeful of the godforsaken temple, he hissed, and spat at the door. Riding towards Peter’s, the sack of money pressed on his sore shoulder.

They had covered Peter’s windows with blankets to keep people from looking in. Inside, Jesus and the others had already taken their seats - each apostle looking afraid under layers of false bravery. 

Judas closed the door behind him and mumbled, “Sorry, I’m late.”

The Passover dinner was silent for a long, heavy time. 

Jesus broke the quiet, “My disciples,” he said. “My friends.” 

He paused then took up his cup of liquor and thrust it into the air. 

“I want you to think of me every time you drink shitty wine and every time you eat stale bread.” 

Jesus chuckled and the apostles tried to laugh along.

“Are we going on the run again, Christ?” Peter asked, troubled by Jesus’s tone. His elbows sat on the table and his red-painted nails were folded under his chin.

“Not me, Peter,” Jesus looked down. “Not for a while.”

Andrew nudged Judas. “What the fuck’s going on.” He whispered in his ear.

Judas avoided his gaze and replied, “I don’t know.” Andrew gave him a raised eyebrow as though he didn’t quite believe him.

“I need to go to the garden.” Jesus announced suddenly. Throwing down his half-eaten bread, he rose and the others followed outside.

As Jesus passed Judas, he said in a quiet tone, “Do what you need to do. And do it now.”

Judas clutched his drink and after taking a gulp of the acid-like wine, slipped out of Peter’s home.

The soldiers were waiting right where Judas had asked them to.

“He’s in the garden.”

“How will we recognize him?”

Judas tightened his fists. “I’ll give you a sign.”

As Judas entered the garden, he could see Jesus. They briefly made eye contact but they said nothing with their words or their eyes. Still holding Judas’s stare, Jesus pulled out his gun and pointed it at the half-moon. He gripped the trigger -  _ bang _ \- and again -  _ bang, bang _ \- until every last one of his bullets was spent.

Judas walked towards Jesus, the apostles moving for him and watching. 

He stood in front of Christ and greeted him, tears never leaving his eyes, “Hail, master.” 

Judas leaned into his friend and kissed him.

Soldiers burst through the entrance of the garden, guns raised and screaming commands. But Judas didn’t hear, all he heard were the words from Jesus as he said, “It’s the only way. You and the others. You must leave here. They would have killed us all.”

“Drop your weapons! Drop them!” 

A shot and a cry rang out.

Peter’s gun smoked. 

A soldier Judas recognized as Malchus pressed his hand to his bleeding head. 

His ear lay red and fresh on the ground.

Everyone was still. Jesus walked up to Peter and moved his gun to point at the ground. Peter stood in shock.

Then Jesus picked up the shot-off ear. He stared into each soldiers’ eyes then handed the ear back to Malchus and said, slowly and softly, “You can choke on it.”

With that the soldiers heaved him away.

Judas skipped town that night. But he didn’t have to. His friends had surrounded him after Jesus was taken from the garden but they didn’t try to kill him. They only stared - waves of ultimate hatred and betrayal radiating off of them. His friends. His only family. It was a thousand times worse than death.

Judas never did tell The Apostles of Jesus’ instructions. Not that he didn’t think they would believe him, but Judas still had some stupidly hopeful part of him that thought Jesus would escape. That he had a plan even Judas didn’t know and the clever Christ would show up, heaps of the priests’ gold on his bike and a smile like that of a snake.

Judas left town because of that denial. He knew if Jesus did break out of Pilate’s grip, he wouldn’t hide out in Jerusalem. 

So when Judas heard of Jesus’ death, it was in a bar in Gaza as he watched condensation drip off his glass.

His world fell apart. He had nothing left. Nothing but thirty pieces of silver and the collective disdain of all his comrades. Nothing but the vision of a torture and crucifixion for his brain to cling to - the last moments of the best man he knew.

Judas returned to the Old City. He never slowed his bike as he passed the temple, viciously flinging the bag of silver against it’s closed doors, the sound exploding and ringing in his ears.

He didn’t slow down. Not until he returned to the cliff overlooking the city, just above the Valley of Hinnom. The same place Jesus brought him and asked him to do the unthinkable. The place that tore out his heart, leaving sweat and tears and dust.

Judas stopped his bike. 

He closed his stinging eyes and lifted his head. The sun cooked his dirt-smeared face. He held his gun in one hand, a rope in the other. He wished he had the guts to nail himself to the tree instead of hang. That’s what he deserved. But at least it would take a long time for anyone to find him. And all the while his dead body would rot like the city, stinking and putrefying until his organs would burst from his body, a pile of intestines, roasting for weeks.

He would end like he lived, Judas thought, smiling, gutless.

The ex-Apostle tied one end of the rope around his neck and flung the other around a branch. He looked quickly to his right, half expecting Jesus to be there, grinning, shaking his head, smoking a cigarette. But there was no one.

Judas stood on the edge of the cliff, rope tight against his stubbly chin, “Forgive me, Jesus of Nazareth,” and he took one step forward.


End file.
